


That Information is Classified

by TheGriefPolice



Series: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson: Little Detectives [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Angst and Fluff, Classifications, Diapers, Dom!Mycroft, Happy Ending, Littles Are Known, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Runaway, Wetting, caregiver!greg, little!john, little!sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19835659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGriefPolice/pseuds/TheGriefPolice
Summary: After a weekend full of fun and laughter, Sunday night brought a whole new issue to the table. The headspace that John never thought he could in to is now the same one he can’t get out of.Scared out of his wits and desperately needing help, John decides to refuse any and all comforting. He doesn’t want to become attached to these people when he knows that, after he gets out of his Little headspace, they will politely but firmly ask him to leave and never come back. Who would ever want a Little that was nothing but trouble.





	1. “I’m worried about John.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure how long this will be but I’m thinking about three or four chapters? Not sure. Is there anything you all would like to see on the story? Cute moments or otherwise? Let me know in the comments!

Dinner had ended, Sherlock had left, and John has been put to bed. Greg was grateful for the moment of silence as Mycroft flipped through a book on the other side of the bed, but the quiet was ruined by the pit forming in his stomach. 

“You’re being too loud.” Mycroft said as he flipped to another page, eyes never leaving his book.

“I’m not making any noise!” Greg defended himself.

Mycroft looked up, staring over the top of his reading glasses. “Not physically, but your head is in full gear and those machines are very loud.”

Greg sighed, letting his eyes settle on the book he held in his hand. Greg has randomly grabbed something off the side table and flipped it open to give the guise of not thinking about John. Greg was a top-grade police officer, but he was a terrible criminal. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything if his life depended on it.

“I’m just worried about John.” Greg finally sighed, letting the book close as he sat it on the bed-side table. “I’m worried about what this may mean, about how it will effect him in the long run. And that’s not even scratching the surface of everything else.”

“Greg, my love, take a moment.” Mycroft set his book aside and toon one of Greg’s hands. “We will figure this out. I do not believe this will cause negative effects in the long run. To be honest, it may be best to keep him in Little headspace for a bit longer to get him more accustomed to himself.”

Greg sighed, shaking his head. “But what about when he comes up? What if he refuses to let himself go down again because of this? What if he’s too scared to get stuck in headspace that he refuses to ever enter it again.”

Just as Mycroft opened his mouth to respond, both men’s phones chirped to grab their attention. They looked at each other in a questioning glance before turning to grab their phones.

“It’s from Sherlock,” Mycroft said as he tapped on his phone screen.

“‘He likes dinosaurs and rabbits.’ What does that mean?” Greg read off.

Another beep from both phones brought up a second message. 

“‘And he forgets to ask for things, but you can see what he wants in his eyes.’ Is he giving us instructions?” Mycroft scoffed. “As if we haven’t been with John all weekend.”

“We were, but not the way Sherlock was. They were playing for two whole days. Perhaps he does have some things we could use to our advantage.” Greg replies, looking at his phone as it buzzed once again.

“‘He will be scared, Don’t let him hide.’ What does he mean by that?” Mycroft shook his head. “John has never been one to run form anything.”

“John Watson, maybe,” Greg said, standing up to grab his robe. “John-John, however, is a different story.”

Mycroft sighed as he stood up and reached form his own robe. “I suppose we will not be spending the night with us alone, then.”

Greg laughed, leaning in as Mycroft tied the robe around himself. Greg place a kiss on Mycroft lips, caressing his cheek as he said, “Better luck next time.”

Mycroft gave a half smile, mouth already forming his court reply before it was shut off by an loud alarm and flashing lights.

“What on earth!” Greg said and he cupped his hands over his ears. 

Mycroft’s eyes went wide. “The house alarm!”

Greg felt his soul tear from his body as he reached for the door and raced down the hall. Mycroft followed, holding a nine millimeter revolver he kept stashed between the mattress and the box spring. Someone was in the house, and Greg’s instincts had him running down the hall with no regard to his own safely or the chance of the person finding them. Right now, he had a Little that was more important.

Greg started cursing himself for letting Sherlock pick the room directly across from the front stairs where the entrance was only a few yards away down a single flight of stairs. They should have him at the back of the house, where Mycroft and Greg could protect them in a situation like this. 

As they took the last turn, Greg could finally see the bedroom door, decked out in starship stickers. His heart sank the moment he realized the door was open. Greg’s feet, however, didn’t betray him until he stood in the entryway, staring into an empty room.


	2. Lost and Found

Little John fic 3

John has his eyes glued to the ceiling, clutching his bunny and blanket close to his chest. He was tempted to look for Sherlock in the other bed, but knew it was empty.

Sherlock has stayed for most of the night and then had to leave for a last-minute case. John had cried for a long time, mad that he wasn’t allowed to go and upset because Sherlock was leaving and John would be alone. But none of John’s crying and begging had stoped Sherlock as he walked out of Mycroft’s house, leaving John on the door step with his face buried in Greg’s shoulder.

John didn’t think he’d sleep at all that night. He was too confused and scared of everything going on. He couldn’t figure out how to be Big because he didn’t even know how to be Little. Mycroft and Greg tossed around the idea that Sherlock’s outburst may have sent him crashing into headspace, but John had no idea what that even meant. After the events of dinner and Sherlock leaving, Greg had determined it was bed time.

John hasn’t resisted at all. Too discombobulated or scared or tired or all three to even do more than whine as Greg had pulled out a diaper for bedtime. John didn’t like the idea of wearing them, but it’s not like he had many options. Greg had tucked him into bed after John refused a bedtime story, and then left. The room suddenly felt like a wide open field with no place to hide, and the only thing left to do was trace imaginary lines between the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling.

Maybe he had done something wrong? Or maybe his father and Harry had been right all along and he wasn’t supposed to be Little because something like this would happen. He wasn’t even sure he was Little, but everyone was treating him like he was. Maybe that was the reason he couldn’t snap out of it. Maybe he’d thought of himself as a Little for too long and it started to have an effect on him. 

This was all so confusing!

John kicked his feet, tossing in bed in a frustrated fit. He kicked the blankets off and clutched his blankie and rabbit close to his chest. He could feel his eyes burning as he buried his head under the pillow and let out a full sob. He didn’t know what was going on or what was going to happen to him, he was scared of messing up everything with Mycroft, Greg, and Sherlock. He was never going to be allowed back. Maybe he never should have agreed to this weekend in the first place. Things were just gonna get worse and everyone was gonna be mad at him. Maybe he should just leave.

Yeah, that’s what he’d do. He’d sneak out with his rabbit and blanket and go back to Baker Street. He could lock himself into his room until all of this blew over and everything would be okay. No one could call him a mess up because he’d gone and fixed everything. 

John Watson may have seen every large hole in the plan, but John didn’t. His mind was set, and it was going to happen.

John let his legs flop over the edge of his trundle bed, standing up on shaking legs. He could walk just fine when he was Little, but sometimes he’d felt a little unsteady. He’d tripped a lot over the weekend. But that didn’t matter. John would just walk and keep a careful watch on the floor.

John inched over to the door in his footie pajamas that Greg had dressed him in. He cracked the door open, then, when he didn’t see anyone coming, darted for the stairs. 

The only part of Mycroft’s manor that John knew for sure was the front door, conveniently placed right at the bottom of the stairs. John had to take a moment to look at the large double-wide oak doors in front of him, unsure for a moment about how he was going to open them. He noticed a pull-down latch at the top and reached as high as he could to pull it down. He could only manage to grasp it with his finger tips, but it was enough for the bolt to fall out. With a twist of the door knob, John yanked the door open to the night air.

John looked over his shoulder, then made sure his blankie and rabbit were under his arm. With no one coming and confront items secure, John stepped out.

It was much louder outside that John imagined it would be. There must have been rain earlier in the day, too, because the cobblestone path was sparkling in the street lights. John kept a careful watch on the cobblestones, lifting his legs higher than strictly necessary to insure he didn’t trip. 

John started following a man in a long coat with the collar up to his face for a few streets, then turned to follow a lady rolling a stroller. He paid no mind to the questioning stares of others on the street. He wasn’t a Little, so he could be out on his own if he wanted, thank you very much. 

When he looked up to find another person to follow, he realized three things all at once:

One, he was lost. Very, very lost. The streets of London aren’t straight, they wind and twist with the land and streams. So, even if he hadn’t taken any turns at all, he would have ended up in a completely different part of town. The fact that he had turned several times made it worse.

Two, he was scared. Very, very scared. He didn’t know where he was and he didn’t even know who to ask. He was just some dumb Little who’d gotten too bold and didn’t know what to do.

Three, Mycroft and Greg were going to kill him for running off. He hadn’t thought that far through his plan and now he regretted every moment of it. 

But, wait. Maybe they weren’t gonna be mad. Maybe they’d be happy. Happy that they didn’t have to deal with him and they hadn’t needed to ask him to leave. Gone was the burden of another Little. 

John wasn’t sure which though made him cry harder as he fell to the ground in the middle of the walkway. He slumped over his blanket and rabbit, not caring about the dirty ground messing up his pajamas. He wished he had stayed at Mycroft’s in the nice bed they had made up for him. But instead he was sitting in a cold cobble stone path in the middle of London with no place to go.

A soft hand tapped his shoulder, pulling John out of his thoughts just long enough to look up at a police officer. She had a look of genuine concern, and that made John cry harder.

“Are you lost?” She asked, squatting down to John’s level.

John nodded his head clutching his blanket and rabbit closer to his chest.

“Do you think you could tell me your name?” She asked. Her hand hadn’t left John’s shoulder.

John tried his best to get the word out, but he was sobbing too hard, which only made him more frustrated and cried harder.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” The woman was now sitting next to him. “We’re gonna find your Caregiver, okay? No worries.”

John watched as she pulled a radio off her shoulder and talked into it. “Unaccompanied Little, distraught and lost. Have we had anyone call in? Over.”

There was static for a minute before someone responded. “A few have come in from the past two hours. Male or female?”

“Male.”

“We have two males missing one with brown hair and one with red.”

The police officer looked John over. “Are you sure there aren’t any more?”

“Wait, another one just showed up. A call asking if we’d found a Little. Five-four, blond hair, blue eyes, wearing blue footie pajamas. Went missing about an thirty minutes ago.”

“What’s the name?” The police officer asked.

Another pause and then, “John Watson, goes by John-John.”

John stopped crying for just a moment as he heard his name.

The police officer looked over at him. “Is that your name? John-John?”

John nodded quickly. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t care where that was or who was going to be mad at him. He didn’t want to be on the street anymore.

“I think I’ve found him.” The officer spoke as she stood up. “Call the Caregiver and I’ll bring him into the office. Over and out.”

John didn’t hear the other side of the conversation as the officer leaned down and scooped him up, placing him on her hip. John wasn’t sure if he should be letting a stranger carry him, but he knew he was too tired to walk. He cried the whole way back to the station, where he was placed on a wooden bench and told to stay until his Caregivers came for him. 

The police officer sat with him, asking about his rabbit and blanket, then about his favorite movies and shows. John didn’t say much, too busy rubbing at his eyes and yawning to really understand what was being asked. Eventually she had stopped asking questions and just ran her hand up and down John’s back. It felt really, really nice. 

He was half asleep when he heard a familiar voice call his name. John looked up through heavy eyes to find Mycroft running through the station. John’s eyes filled with new tears, somehow scared and relieved at the same time. 

Mycroft seemed to collapse in front of John, placing a hand on John’s knees while trying to regain his breath. John looked up to find Greg walking into the office carrying a few coats. Once he spotted Mycroft, he was running over.

“John, you’re okay!” Greg looked relieved, scooping John up and pressing the Little close to his chest. John could feel the desperation in the air, only making him cry harder.

“Where was he?” John heard Mycroft ask. 

John pinched his eyes closed as hard as he could, clinging to Greg with all of his might.

“My, I think it’s best if we just take him home. We can work out details later.” Greg said softly. John almost couldn’t hear it over his cries.

“I’ll get you all the full report. If you can just come this way and sign some papers, you can get right on home.”

John didn’t care if the only thing waiting for him when he got back was a suitcase and a cab. He’s still have his blankie and rabbit and maybe Sherlock would still be Big John’s friend, even if he was told not to play with Little John again.

The long day was finally catching up to him as he let out a few last sobs and let his eyes fall shut. His head was braced on Greg’s shoulders, making the perfect position to fall asleep on. John didn’t even notice when they entered a cab, too far gone to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t turn out near as well as I would have liked, but it’s simply a stepping-stone chapter to the next one. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. To the Office!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This didn’t turn out super great, but imma just post it and move on! Hope you all enjoy!

TIIC 3

John held his rabbit close to his chest, unable to breathe as Mycroft opened the car door. The building-palace-castle-whatever was HUGE, and it scared John to think about what was going on through the halls. Mycroft was an important man, John knew that much. But this truly seemed insane.

“Best behavior, understood? We shouldn’t be here long.” Mycroft repeated for what must have been the billionth time as he took John’s hand, adjusted the bag over his shoulder, and headed towards the entrance. 

John let himself be dragged along, questioning every decision he had ever made that lead to this point—still somehow Little as he was being taken into what must be the most terrifying place on Earth.

Last night had brought a very serious conversation about never running off or going anywhere without an adult even if he thought he was Big. He always had to ask Greg and Mycroft if he wanted to leave some place they had put him and he would be punished if he didn’t listen. John didn’t think he could cry that hard, and his eyes still felt swollen from it all, but the message sank in loud and clear. But then he’d been too scared to sleep alone and had ended up falling asleep on Greg on the couch and then being moved to their bed where he later woke up with an embarised blush.

It was only in the morning that they had started wondering what the plan of action would be. John wanted to say he was Big enough to be left on his own whilst Greg was at work and Mycroft had to grab something from the office, but ending up in a wet diaper shortly after breakfast took away any chance of that argument holding up. John hadn’t meant to, but he got distracted looking for his shoes and by the time he’d noticed he had to go, it’d been too late. 

So now John was holding tightly to his rabbit and Mycroft’s hand as they walked through the entrance and though guards upon guards watching their movements and spaced what must have been ten foot increments. John stayed close to Mycroft, almost hiding behind him as best he could so he wouldn’t have to look at the men. Mycroft hadn’t said a single word and it was one of the very few times John found the silence somewhat comforting.

“Good morning, Mr Holmes.” A man behind a desk greeted. “I thought you were taking the day off?”

“Good morning, Percy. I’ll only be a few hours, need grab some things to take home.” Mycroft sat down his bag and grabbed a clipboard that had been laid on the desk, turning to look at John for a moment before turning back. “Though I am not legally his guardian, may I sign him in. I do not believe it would be legally binding if he did so himself right now.”

John worried about why anything would have to be “legally binding” with Mycroft’s work and he tucked his rabbit closer to his face, even more nervous than before. Why couldn’t he just be Big, or even just a little Bigger than his headspace was.

“Yeah, that’s all right. I didn’t know you had a Little besides your brother.” Percy smiled at John, giving him a wave of his fingers.

Mycroft had pulled his phone out and wasn’t paying attention as John peeked out behind Mycroft for just a moment. John gave a waved back at Percy because he wanted to be polite. Mycroft said best behavior, though John was surprised Mycroft had mentioned anything about his personal life at work. He’d never seemed the type.

“How are you today, sweetheart?” Percy asked as he took the clipboard back from Mycroft.

John swallowed as he pulled his rabbit away from his mouth for just long enough to say, “‘M good, than’ you. How’re you?” 

“Awe, what a polite Little guy!” Percy gushed. “I’m doing just great. You having fun with your daddy today?”

John took a moment of pause. Was Mycroft his daddy? He’d only ever called him Mycroft, and Greg was only ever Greg. Was that strange? Was Mycroft supposed to be a daddy? John pushed that aside as he simply nodded his head.

Mycroft slid his phone into his pocket, Turing back to the receptionist. “That will be all, Percy. Thank you.”

“Any time, Mr Holmes! You all have a great day!” Percy smiled, waving again as Mycroft gave him a thank you and took John’s hand again.

They walked past several doors and then turned to walk down a carpeted hallway. After what seemed like forever, they were finally in an office lined with cherry wood bookshelves and oak floors, all stained and lacquered to a bright sheen. It was a truly beautiful and spacious office, and John felt out of place in his soft blue overalls and white long sleeve Greg had dressed him in that morning. 

Mycroft lead him over to a table that was mostly clear of papers but for a stack on the far side, away from where Mycroft was pulling a chair out, gesturing for John to take a seat. John obeyed, placing his rabbit in his lap as Mycroft pushed the chair in.

“If you can behave and not be too disruptive whilst we’re here, we can get a treat on our way home.” Mycroft said as he kneeled down, using the table for support. “Greg packed a few toys for you to play with and I’ve got paper if you wish to draw. Does that sound alright?”

John nodded his head. He knew it would be more polite to give verbal answers, but John was too nervous to talk. Mycroft seemed to understand because he didn’t say anything as he reached into the bag he had brought and placed a box or crayons, a coloring book, a few toy cars, a small container of Legos, and a few loose animal figures onto the table. John stared at the hoard in astonishment, not having expected Greg to truly know what John and Sherlock played with. He smiled to himself.

Mycroft walked over to a desk not too far away and seemed to settle right into his work for the morning, leaving John alone at the table. 

John reached for the crayons first, knowing they would be the quietest toy out of the bunch, and flipped to a random page in the color book. When he decided he didn’t want to color elephants, he flipped through until he found a page with cartoonish rabbits grazing a field and settled in to make it all kinds of colors. Being realistic was boring and Sherlock wasn’t there to demand things be a certain color, so John got to make the rabbits blue and pink, and the grass was purple—naturally—and then the sky had to be orange because John liked orange. 

When the picture was colored, John reached to rip it out of the book and say the page flat on the table. Like that, it kind of looked like a field his animal figures could play in, so John sat them all up around the page and had them tell stories about the drawings on the ground and what they could mean. 

“John,” Mycroft’s voice cut through his play. “Do you need to go potty?”

John looked up, thinking for a moment. He didn’t remember the last time he went, but he didn’t feel like he had to go, so he shook his head no.

Mycroft stood up as he said, “Why don’t we try, hum?”

John let out a whine, not wanting to pause his playtime. He didn’t have to go potty and he didn’t want to!

“John, remember what I said this morning?” Mycroft said sternly.

John nodded, looking between his toys and Mycroft before realizing that he wasn’t some baby and he didn’t whine. He wasn’t sad about leaving his toys. He could get up and go with Mycroft just like anyone else!

But getting up to leave felt like some kind of betrayal. What if they missed him whilst he was gone? What if they all thought he’d left and would never come back?

“John,” Mycroft said in a tone that told John he wouldn’t be getting another reminder to listen.

John swallowed, getting up and walking across the room to take Mycroft’s hand, staring back at his toys the whole time. 

“They’ll still be there when we get back. A quick potty break and then right back to the fun.” Mycroft held open his office door, letting John walk through.

John nodded solemnly, flopping behind Mycroft as they walked down the hall. John let his fingers slip into his mouth, not really sure of what else to do with his hand since he left his rabbit in Mycroft’s office.

It turned out that John had needed to go, something he didn’t realize until Mycroft was half-way through pulling the overalls off. John could t stop wiggling long enough for Mycroft to make any real progress, but they eventually got everything done and John was sitting on the potty right in time. Maybe he shouldn’t drink so much juice in the morning, John thought to himself. 

For a moment, he forgot that he was supposed to be embarrassed over being reminded to go potty and needing help to get his clothes on and off. For a moment, all John could think about where his toys back in Mycroft’s office and how happy they’d be when he got back so they could finish their game. It wasn’t as much fun as when Sherlock was playing with him, but John liked it when he didn’t have to compromise on what he wanted to happen. It was all up to him, even if he couldn’t make all of the sounds like Sherlock could. John was just a Little having fun with his Caregiver at work—no other thought needed.

Just as the they walked back into Mycroft’s office, John was throw back into reality by a blaring alarm.

John must have jumped ten feet into the air as he went to cover his ears with the palm of his hands. 

“It’s okay, John. Just the fire alarm.” Mycroft said, obviously trying to comfort John, but it wasn’t working.

John looked around manically, trying to find his rabbit as tears formed in his eyes. He found the stuffed animal on the floor next to his chair and went to reach for it only to find that he would have to removed a hand from his ears and the sound was too loud to do so.

And then a hand was grabbing at the rabbit, setting in on the table. John looked up in time to see Mycroft reaching to pick him up. Once John was settled onto Mycroft’s hip, the rabbit was placed against John’s chest to be pinned in by Mycroft’s arm. 

They walked toward the door, the repetitive sound almost making John sick as it bounced around his head. Mycroft must have been whispering things, but John couldn’t focus enough to process what was being said. Mycroft swing the door open and walked into the empty hallway before John saw a man in a black uniform running down the hall, his mouth moving as if talking.

Mycroft yelled a response, but John had squeezed his eyes closed against tears and couldn’t hear anything over his sobs and the alarm. John could feel Mycroft move faster than before, tucking his face into the crook of Mycroft’s neck and shoulder. John didn’t think he’d ever been more scared than he was right then—not even on the battlefield. Because Big John could handle just about anything and Little John was just a pathetic baby, just like his dad has said. 

John tucked his face into Mycroft’s shoulder and held on tight, waiting for whatever may come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, but never expected!


End file.
